Welcome to Gotham
by ShyrenUthZhakrin
Summary: A love story between Two-face and an unsuspecting up and rising reporter.
1. Heads or Tails?

Hail and salutations one and all! Welcome to the beginning of a co-written fanfiction of Harvey Dent. Of course neither of us own the character and the second created (Ava) is purely made up and is not based off of any canon batman character. Each perspective is spit by a '' shifting between the females perspective and Harvey Dents.

I hope you enjoy the read as much as we enjoyed writing it!

* * *

_Click… click click click, click… click click_

As if a needle of a sewing machine, the soft pale pads of her fingertips tapped against the plastic buttons of the laptop computer that rested in her lap, on the screen a full page of text trailed down the screen's length and was continuing without hesitance or pause for break; it was repetitious in nature though not in interest as there was much to write about when living in such a place as gotham was. It is a place held together through the efforts of the good, efforts that are stained and challenged to remain intact with the increasing crime rate about it; it was evident for all to see that the balance between the two forces was tipping to compliment the crimes and violence that gloomed every inch of a once peaceful living within the cities boarders. It was through this installation of fear that one could not trust one's own friends, own neighbors, even loved ones because it was difficult if not impossible to gauge who fought for which cause through appearance alone; citizens lived in a heightened state of paranoia and with just cause as well.

_Click click… click click click, click…_

It was disheartening, for as a journalist she mustn't pass off details no matter of their nature; though she strived and fought to present gotham in the most positive light, it often became shrouded with the ever-present threat of violence, crime and death whose roots were growing deeper and deeper into the heart of the city.

It was underneath the shade of a tall and old green giant did she choose to stop and write this evening, it was beautiful in the park when the seasons rest sidelong with one another; the warmth of summer still lingering as the leaves on the trees and other vegetation had begun to change color, all while a cooling breeze rusted through the grass and tossed fallen leaves into its grasp. As the foliage danced and bobbed on the waft of air, the diminishing sunlight pulled the vibrant autumn colors from the leaves, red oranges and yellows while accompanying the leaves was the faint sound of laughter, children laughing with their parents as the families walked through the park on their departure before sunset. It was one of her most adored places in the whole of the gotham because often, those that came to central park were light in spirits, which in turn uplifting her own as well. A small smile caressed her own thin lips as her attention rested on one of the families whom had begun to leave the area.

A constant and low hum from the fan of her laptop computer dragged her attention once more to the document presented on screen, which she then saved and shut down the computer, slipping it into the messenger bag that lay on the grass alongside her; a stunning collection of fabrics were sewed together to create the canvas of the messenger bag, evident that it was a homemade patchwork, hinted towards the small but honest living she made as a writer. It was getting late as the final periods of sunlight were being presented across the landscape, bathing all in its reach in 'firesque' hues which became temporarily painted across the light moonlight-shaded tresses of her short hair. It was too wondrous of a sight to leave; she gave into the temptation willing and remained resting against the trunk of the tree to watch the sun roll down. As the chill of the night crept against her she pulled the ivory sweater that circled behind her, up and over her shoulders, fidgeting as she slipped both arms in and zipped the garment up.

It was a disappointment that the sunset lasted for a short few moments before the hounds of nightfall claimed dominance across the cityscape, with that her invitation was drawn to a close and she gathered to her feet, pulled the massager bag's strap above her head and down against the shoulder, opposite of the side that the bag rested against. As she began to leave, walking down the stone pathway, her boots tapped against the stone; her boots reached to a length below her knee and was made from a soft black suede. In the boot was tucked the hem and lower region of the light-colored blue jeans that she wore which fitted against the curves of her lower body with a delicate manner. As her hand rested on the flap of the messenger bag, swinging as she walked- paused all of a sudden to the sight that stood in her path- she paused as if halted as the pupils of her intense oceanic-blue pools widened.

A small number of four men, draped in the newfound shadows of the evening, stood in her path.

A faint feeling, a threat and warning, she allowed herself a small step backwards from the direction where the men waited; she could feel their stare against her skin, could feel their sickening grins across their slippery lips and forked tongues slipping across dried lips. In small attempt to remain calm and casual she looked down to her side and lifted the flap of her bag, pretending that she had left behind something, she then turned and began to walk in the opposite direction. As she turned she heard the sound of quickened footsteps behind her, and that feeling, that threat, grew as the sound did- she began to run for all it was worth.

A hand reached from behind and grasped a fistful of her hair in the man's hand, pulling her backwards with the full of his strength against his own body. As she felt herself being ripped backwards and a pain needling against her scalp, she began to jerk and flail against the man's strength which did naught to affect his hold on her. Her head upturned to the sky as the man brought his hand down, her lips parting as if to scream as a strip of fabric was pulled about her mouth, gagging her; she could taste the sweat and dirt in the fabric, the sensation of the two causing bile to rise in her throat. It was the final sight she seen, the midnight sky, as a black fabric bag was pulled down over her head and fastened. A sharp kick to the back of her knee caused her to fall down onto the stone, and the blunt strike against her head added the final ingredient as she collapsed to the ground, dazed.

One of the four men chuckled and then bent down, arms wrapping about the woman's small frame and in one motion heaved her entire form up and over his shoulder. With a sense of accomplishment he turned and began towards the gate that left the park, and the van that awaited the four men, a door sliding open as they neared- the man tossed the woman's body into the van and then received a pat on the back from his buddies. In a state of daze, half aware and half not, she knew not where she was or what had transpired from the time in the park, until she felt herself being lifted and carried once more; she listened, hearing voices and doors opening and closing. A sharp pain sprung up her back as she was dropped into a chair, her wrists and ankles then tied to it to restrain movement or escape. As the bag was torn from her head, the sole light that lit the room was hung over her head; it stung her eyes at first.

In the shadow she heard them, knew that the four men were there watching with a sick satisfaction; she was frightened, terrified even as tears decorated, staining her cheeks as she looked about her hopelessly, unable to see past the circle of light that she was positioned in the middle of.

* * *

Was he once like that? Was that him upon a long ago dream? Blindly walking the streets below without so much as a second glance towards danger. Any citizen of Gotham knew that there was potential of.. not getting mugged like in most major cities.. but of being horribly mutilated and then your immediate family raped. Yes.. he knew of this danger quite well- but was he aware of it then? To a degree he must have been.. he recalled being a lawyer, (He nearly scoffed aloud at the concept now) he once fought against these said evils. But did he comprehend its depths.. Really? Or was he doing what he felt at the time must be done.. he suspect even in his youth it was a selfish need to be seen as salvation- to be seen as the best there was. Itd make sense.. he recalled that much about himself. His life was a haze, his past, It seemed like another tale besides his own. Those of the victims hes seen pleading far to many times to take into reality. He had existed once, normally, as normal as he could have provided for himself. And since the story he recalled seemed suiting- at least.. it seemed to make sense, he choose to accept that one as his own. But that all he held, was memory of it. He doubted if anyone else could even claim that. For all he had become, he could never recall anyone talking about what he once was. It had to make sense. As much as Gotham has destroyed others- he had at one point destroyed Gotham's hope.. and few others can claim that.

His eyes cast down over his nose and snarl- his body stiff and unmoving. His face not following suit to turn towards the pavement below- but indeed kept forward, allowing him to look down both literally and figuratively at the city below. His shoulder blades square against the outside of the cement building, the hard brace casting a chill against the flesh that lay beneath- the part of him that remained unmarred even under his mask of light and dark clothing. The blazer that was normally worn on top off his shoulders and likely hung somewhere else. His arms snaked across his chest, folded. The dress shirt as pressed and neat as ever in the split of black and white. He stood on the roof of a construction building, partaking in a habit of his. Though he normally smoked in doors, some subconscious yearning begged for the fresh night air and noises of the city. He slipped out of the company of his fellow thugs to indulge in the pleasantry.

The building was not exactly abandoned as it was in the slums of the city, and still showed signs of usage. But despite the fact that it was neither residential or a functioning business it was otherwise ignored by criminal and authority alike. Most buildings of this sort were... and it was well known that his sort, lesser or worse, took advantage of the building to use for their own advantage. Though it was never known where one criminal was hiding within this playground of potentials, it was generally assumed that ever festering hell hole held a few rats. And no one choose to take the change of meeting up with the potential plague. But while the citizens even acknowledged this unspoken rule, they still shamelessly walked by the said buildings undaunted. He supposed this was due to the very same unspoken rule. If they left you alone- youd leave them alone. What satisfaction was there to pick off strangling gangsters in the slums, what worth was that?

Polished shoes leveled out before him as he placed his weight from the wall behind him onto his own being once again. Gravel hissed in protest beneath the polished leather at the added weight. Slipping about the flat soles. He stood upon the roof, glancing down out over upon the darkness that lined the streets below much clearer then his former roost. Night had fallen without so much as a sound.. the final splattering of blood red fading upon the skies canvas. He watched those below hurry to get home a snarl of disgust all too evident even upon his marred features, the illuminating strands of fading red light catching his vision giving his appearance the illusion of being a bloody mess it once was. A female, dressed in sultry clothing- flaunting off her figure and shape within the streets below. Walking at a casual pace by herself, weaving between the buildings like a snake cornering an unsuspecting mouse. Two teenagers that seemed messed up beyond comprehension took turns between laughing at each other and a garbage dumpster, a drunken bum that hadnt the energy to beg for money, a out of place looking father and son mere streets away from a group he recognized as his own men. A hunger was amplified within the red pupils- like a cat watching a flitting bird just out of its reach. The muscles along his jaw line visibly tightened, the cigarette within his teeth bending in contrast to the sharp abuse. The stiffening running down through his entire core as a hollow rage gripped his very being in an unwavering grasp.

A deep gnawing in his chest urged one of the passer bys to look up- to take notice of him. To spot his horror and run in terror that should rightfully be twisting their very breath from their body. He willed them to look up at their once symbol of salvation, and to panic in acknowledgement of what he now was. To realize where they were, and the state they were in. They were defenseless. He could.. and would- and would enjoy destroying every single one of them. To make them look upon his face and see what he seen every day- to know what Harvey Dent was like- to know the true Harvey Dent, and know what they trusted in, lost, and choose to forget. Hed make them remember him.. in one way or another his name would be feared. His hands clenched and unclenched subconsciously at his sides as his mind twisted over these thoughts unchecked. His body to tired to try to mark the grotesque thoughts that flitted through his mind. He hauled in a breath of smoke through a constricted filter, running the toxic smoke through his lungs and out through his nose without so much as raising a hand.

Slowly.. oh so slowly.. lost at first upon the male, the tension was broken.. a whispering voice as soothing as a mother calming a child from late night terrors. A brief summer breeze.. a whispering breath with a telling secret of cold upon the dying season. The cooling voice that was once Harvey Dent upon the dying day, and his shoulders eased. A playful tossle, a sightless hand toyed with the ex lawyers hair, neither biased nor judgmental. Twisting the white within the black playfully and caressing the flesh without hesitation with a lovers grace. A hand subconsciously moved to his blazer pocket to toy with a single piece of silver. As his actions eased his mind did as well, returning to a dull numbness… no thoughts corrupted or eased his soul further, but in its simplicity he welcomed a dull indifference.

He hauled in another breath of smoke and wished that the sensation still burned his lungs- far to long ago he had grown used to the effects of the habit.

_"Ahahahaha- Ya go fishin mate?"_

A voice broke the white noise of sirens and screams that was Gotham. Brows furrowed upon Two-faces brows as his attention plummeted to the entrance of the building beneath where he stood. It seemed one person didnt take enough heed to the corrosion of Gotham. Four of his men chuckled and talked boisterously amongst themselves. Adding a hearty elbow to the rib whenever the conversation called for it. The tallest and beefiest of the group held a package over his shoulder- obviously a female prize… and quite the prize at that. Well dressed, young in age, and lithe but well formed, even at this distance. His fingers stilled upon the coin in his pocket. The voice had belonged to the thug set at the door.

_"Aye! Caught me a big one too!" _

This set off a chorus of guffaws and shameless hoots of laughter. The noise obviously startling its package as it took up squirming once again. In a fluent motion the men oozed into the building as a hand rose sharply at Two-face's side. A glitter of silver flicked from his finger tips- illuminated by the lights of the streets below it took on a spirit of its own, mimicking the stars that had begun to pepper the skies above him.. and even before his black clad hand had snapped the coin violently from the air he knew which side would be shown, and that perhaps just this one last time justice could be had. He began to move toward the door even as he glanced into his palm in confirmation.

The building wasnt big, but it didnt take much to guess where their prize was going to be placed. The basement traditionally the location for such dark deeds as was about to transpire. The windowless room encoated in cement insulation and then meters of dirt was no stranger to the evils of man. His new found destination was halted for a moment as water splashed about his heels mockingly. He snarled instinctively like a provoked beast at the inconvenience. His gaze turning accusingly to the puddle that had formed within one of the many dips in the buildings sagging stature. It had been raining relentlessly within Gotham, suiting.. it seemed some unnamed god was weeping for the cities lost. This only deepened the mans disgust and annoyance towards the pooled water. The wavering slender reflections twisted in response to his sight- twisting his already twisted reflection. A flitting look of sorrow flitted across the males vision before being engulfed like a toy boat upon a tsunami by a crushing rage. A gloved hand rose for the first time to his lips- and with a casual action flicked his all but finished cigarette into the mocking portrait. The only return statement he had grace to return, before continuing on his path.

He remained tactfully unnotable as he moved down the stairwells and hallways. There were few left within the building. Not that he noted how many henchmen he currently had under his influence. He had long ago stopped paying attention- and simply took matters into his own hand more often then not. Which generally meant that he attracted more scum who wanted protection for free. He supposed it was some sort of pay off for not being mutinied by his other 'crew' for what he used to be. It was a common folly however that because he didnt do much with his thugs that he wasnt still his. A smile- a sincere if twisted amusement flicked across the right side of his face at this simple notion. They were nothing but toys- things of amusement and convenience.. if they were anything else, well.. they wouldnt be here. Muffled voices became all the clearer the close he came to the bowels of the building. He pressed his back up against another cement wall- the same familiarity of cold hard unmoving support catching the flesh beneath the fabric. He listened.

_"Come on babe- smile. Ya gonna have some fun"_

_"Ehehehe stop tormentin her Slicer an lets get on with it-" A pause _

_"Lets? Im not sharing the lot of yas get outta here. You mugs dun deserve the likes of her. Go find yourselves a hooker. Besides you prefer that transsexual bullshit anyway-"_ The sound of laughter being cut short but a guttural gurgle and a snap. The other guy had thrown a punch and it seems a fight ensued. A third voice started chuckling to himself, and a muffled feminine scream. Obviously the other men were taking the distraction to their advantage. More muffled sounds and then another yelp. A slight shadow stirred through the opened door way into the shadows outside the central lights reach.

Three men remained in the depths, one having either lost interest or plans to have what ever was left over not wanting to be part of the fray. One man was curled into a pathetic ball upon the floor- each wavering breath leading to an equally shaky coughing of blood. Broken nose if two-face had to guess, and winded. Two cheap shots and then left in the dirt. The males pride hurt more then his physical body, it was unlikely hed attempt to gain dominance over the others. The victor must have noticed the third guy going towards the prey as they were now in the throws of fighting… if thats what it could be called. One had the other by the cuff of his collar ready to throw a punch, and the receiver was cowering for all it was worth. The aggressor barked sharp words in victory.

_"Hey- I dont think so piss ant! Hands off- shes mine!"_

**"My sentiments exactly…"**

A deep calculatingly calm voice, gruff, more of a growl then spoken. Though no emotion stole over his tone, the very nature of the vocals oozed with anger and venom. A sickly silence hung over the air as all three thugs turned towards the source of the sound. Victim, pray and bloody nose all forgotten. A taste of a smile danced tempting upon the corner of the males mouth- attempting to betray his annoyance with sheer amusement at their horror struck expressions. But with careful training he stared undaunting- his own mind twisting to picture what he must look like through their eyes. A twisted beast of a man, caught in a world between his highest and lowest point, pasted across his face quite literally emerging from the shadows before their very eyes.. and above all else.. their boss.

It took a moment for his words and their meaning to actually sink in.

_"B-boss..?"_ the thugs expression dropped in a mixture of checked annoyance and disappointment. It was much like watching a child drop a snow cone onto the sand. He allowed his smirk to show blatantly.

**"Shes mine. "**

The complete lack of anger made the statement inarguable. It wasnt even a question- it was fact.. and fact is unchangeable. The thug dropped his companion and all three of them left without so much as looking over their shoulders. He knew their sulking would be cured by returning to the streets for another hunt- it was half the fun after all. Surprised that he actually left without a further word he turned his attention once more to the captive.. he had remained out of the single light above her head. He looked about him as if to check if he could be seen. Logically her eyes shouldnt be able to register him- and deciding by her lack of screams.. he suddenly felt ashamed once again of his appearance.. with the innocent youth, flawless in her appearance and the very image of innocence.. he felt suddenly very ill- fighting back either two-face or Harvey dent attaining a grip over his mind.. both sides ruthlessly fighting with one another at the very presence of the female. Anger and sympathy lapped in cross hatches, raw violent lust and compassion. Even as his mind grasped a basic question to ask to inform her of his presence and his presence alone a hand drew into his pocket once more. The feud within him would have a victor-

**"Who are you?"**

A flash of silver from black clad hands-

But he would not choose which side.

* * *

It was indeed was not what she would have dreamt to happen when she set off this afternoon, then again it isn't such a thing that one anticipates to happen. It is known to all whom live inside the walls of gotham that crime was on a constant rise, and she knew that fact more then the average individual as it was her set goal to record and write about the happenings around her; she felt a fool, a dreadful fool because in her articles she would plead for those whom read her words to be careful, no matter where, no matter the time- it served her well enough then for neglecting her own advise.

It was not the first time she had found herself caught in a threatening situation, but never did those situations escalate to this extent. In her mind these thoughts continued to race, continued to beat on and on like a drum which became louder and louder- to the extent that it diverted her attention from the sound of the men who fought around her. It might have her mind's instinct, a tactical offense to see that her mental state focused on her own thoughts and feelings, rather then those about her- it kept her calmer, given the situation, it helped that she remained ignorant of the emotions that raged inside of the room. It was not until she felt the presence of one of the men nearing her, did her mind wash blank and she felt him within an instant, felt his feelings, his thoughts, his wants, his cravings, his brutality which was focused on her.

It was then she began to panic, she squirmed about the closed in space of the chair which she sat in. As she began to trash the plastic fastening that was tightened about her wrists began to teeth in against her tender flesh, a distinct line of red rising against her skin, threatening to become a wound if pushed further. Her head twisted to the side as she felt the man ever nearer, attempting to scream though the soiled rag that gagged her mouth prevented her to scream. It was then she began to work against the gag, which as she had begun to squirm and move about, had loosened and soon as she continued such movements loosened enough that she was able to push the gag from her mouth using her tongue.

As the gag rolled down and about her neck, the man's hand snaked out to clasp around her mouth before she had a chance to mouth a word or sound. His grip was tight and painful, she drew her head backwards as far as she could to escape the man. As she stared at his shadowed figure in front of her, tears began to roll down along her cheeks, cheeks which were speckled with dried dirt from the bag that was once fastened over her head. Tresses of moonlight-blonde hair plastered against her damp cheeks, her chest bouncing, rolling up and down like a wave would break across the water and then dip down once more.

It was instant, the connection, as the brute grabbed her about the mouth to silence her; she saw him, she could see his true self, his hearts desire, his thoughts and past. It was a magnificent wonder which was almost quite nightmarish, as it was never meant for any individual to see such in another. It was against her will to see such, though it was forced on her time and time again- as much as she tried to deny herself and what she was, it came, like the moon chasing the sun in an everlasting game of cat and mouse- it would come, it was unstoppable when the two tyrants would gain lead till the other won victory once more.

Underneath the man's grasp she began to tremble, his malice she expected, his lust was mixed with a wanting that ran deeper then she had expected, it was not the simple act of rape did the man take pride and enjoyment in, it was her reactions, her horror, that fed him. In the backdrop of her hearing, she heard another voice, and the hand was drawn away from her mouth and the man stood watching her for a second longer, before turning and leaving without hesitance or refusal.

In the silence she felt herself stiffen all the more, she knew that the thugs had left though indeed would not have left unless one of higher status had presented him or herself; however there was more then this, she knew there was another, she could feel him, sense his presence about her, cloaked in the shadow of the room. As her lips parted to draw in uneven and short gasps of air into her lungs, her bright cerulean pools darted about, against the shield of light that faltered her sight, allowing her to see within the ring of light and no further.

_"Who are you?"_

On occasion she was grateful for the 'curse' that she lived with; indeed she felt that he was not driven with anger, there was something else there, something different. It was as if this man was much like black in white in the regard of aura of emotion that surrounded him; she felt at the same instant a sophisticated calmness and civility that was edged with a strong taste of madness that teetered on a small point- both opposites were pressed against her, she was left unsure of how to react, how to feel about this. As these feelings roamed inside her, she felt divided, separated from herself- and now, as if another had come out to join in, another part of her. As she stared against the shade that pressed in against the circle of light she caught a silver flash amidst the darkness- her thin brow furrowing in mild inquiry.

**"Ava…"**

A tremble weakened her otherwise soft, soothing voice that contained a sort of melodious ring to it- it was pleasant to the ears and suited her soft-features well enough.

* * *

_"Ava..."_

Her voice was soft- whimsical.. it suited her looks. She seemed too.. good to belong to Gotham. A deep gnawing jealousy caught the depths of his throat.. A rage at his own loss screamed at him to silence her. To punish her, to mar her, to make her see the world through his eyes. To loose the peaceful innocence as he once had. Another part of him buried in the same hallow ache screamed out on her behalf His mind twisted over this again and again and again. A conflict raging inside of his core. A familiar tensing wrangled through his body the forced strain forcing his mind down a path of bi8tter worry. He wondered if she could recognize him. She looked familiar.. and that was never a good sign, An undercover cop? No.. a protester.. a journalist.. a rival gang-.. no wait.. a journalist..

The rage amplified, twisting through his body from the inside out, turning his gruff growl all the more feral- the noise stark against her former words only provoked his rage further. A grip tightened and metal but into flesh through leather gloves. He checked himself once more pulling into the shadows as he assumed her eyes slowly were adjusting to the brightness about her. If she could place his already distinguishable voice- then this game.. this idiotic roulette of chance would backfire on him. Black clad fingers slowly unfurled, each movement agony as it was released from its constraint.

Mismatched eyes flicked upwards.

**"Youre pretty damn lucky... You must be a journalist."**

The humor was lost on him, the knowledge that he had unwittingly hinted at who he was- but in the situation it was subtle enough that anyone could have made the comment. Somehow the action and familiarity calmed him- told him what to believe, in a sense. He found the rage subsiding once more to a well founded annoyance.

Now that a decision was made he couldnt leave her in the chair- but revealing himself would be.. twice as stupid as the risk he was already taking. A moments beat- and a plan eased across his acute thought process. A mischievous grin marked the nature.

He shifted his weight to one foot- a hand flicking to his side sending his blazer in a quick playful dance. A white clad hand disappeared in black silk. All at once in a flurry of motion his feet parted- an arm rose sharply and his entire body jerked backwards as the deafening sound of a gun echoed within the constrained room. The sound of ricochet was followed by a feminine scream.. and despite himself he laughed mockingly at her escaped surprise.

The room had gone dark as the light was shot out- the sickening smell of gunpowder and warm metal hung about the room in lingering trundles. He held his ground a moment longer despite no threat of being seen. He heard no sound- no voice. A steady low breathing.. in and out.. a thin wire of panic took him. A desperate sense of helplessness. Both hands rose to his head, the emotions and thoughts unwelcome- repulsive.. he spent his life avoiding such feelings!

He stumbled and found his shoulder against the cement wall once again. His pulse quickened, and his jaw clenched. The warm metal of the gun against his temple urged him to get a grip on himself..with an inhuman growl of disapproval he pocketed his gun once more- his will violently focused on blocking all emotions within him with the fine art of a professional. His attention turned with a new found inspiration for his annoyance. He approached the back of her chair. He growled words upon the darkness.

**"Whats the matter with you? Dont ya know Gothams dangerous?" **

He barked accusingly, not thinking much on the fact that even in the pitch black that he knew where the Victims chair was. Familiarity with past 'guests'.

A leather clad hand rested on the back support of the chair- his hands followed the wood down towards where her arms were held- and hesitated... it was likely best to leave her hands to last.. in case of a last minute sense of desperation- or denial to his aid.

His intentions altered, his direction turned. A hand moving to the nape of her neck- his eyes fell shut using his minds eye to visualize the females position- where her neck was, her hair.. long golden waves like honey caught in the vibrancy of summer. A naturally given scowl deepened within the male. He caught the back of the gag and fumbled to untie it through the thickness of his gloves- he would be thankful that he was unaware of her ability to 'sense' emotion. If he had suspected she could glimpse into his mind at that moment-.. coin or not.. shed be dead.

Tugging up a pant leg, he knelt behind her, grumbling beneath his breath all the while. Flicking open a pocket knife which had been mysteriously concealed he moved a hand down along her leg carefully searching for the thin plastic tie. A basic thought of how much easier it would have been to find it without his gloves twisted into a quiet need to take them off to find it-.. then a want to

The glaring image of what poorly resembled a human hand- flesh pulled over bone and warn muscle reprehended his thoughts so forcefully it startled himself into opening his eyes once again.the thoughts met with a 'snap' as the binding was cut. He moved more carefully to her hands. Torn between amused and annoyed by his fancies. Could someone blame him? He was a man- she was tied to a chair.. vulnerable and dripping with terror. It wasnt his sort to woo a girl and earn her.

A third and fourth snap signaled the end of his game and her freedom.

**"You got a place to go?"**

* * *

It was against the still and hesitant atmosphere, decorated with a cool through damp air- did the simplistic sound of a small object patting down against a smooth fabric, its fall through the air being caught. It was the recognizable sound of clenching leather that followed; the grinning silver coin lost amidst the leather bound fingers that wrapped about it. It would grind against her mind, she pleaded with herself to search for information, to recall something that might connect the missing links that would reveal this man's true self; she read and researched the crimes of gotham and their doers, she knew the names of each lead crime-king within the walls of gotham and it was a mere question if this man was an upper criminal under the hand of the main cheese, of in fact, if he was one of the upper crime criminals that led the gangs that plagued the streets like rats, chewing and gnawing at the goodness still left in gotham. It was an answer that evaded her, she was thrown into personal debate because of the polar opposites that fought inside the man; as if fire and ice, both at a constant- attempting to snuff out the opposing force.

_"Youre pretty damn lucky... You must be a journalist."_

As he named her, she felt herself become sick; she wrote under an alias, a male name in the hopes it would conceal her true self. It astonished her, unable to answer where she had gone wrong, how he knew her for her profession because indeed she often was pegged as a photographer because of her camera companion, or an art student because of her eccentric choice of colors and fashions. A small quicken of breath, she felt her calmness being grinded down against the pressure of the individual which as she continued to focus on the shadows about her, caught a glimpse of movement and then blackness once more. At this trace she focused all the more, the silence becoming deafening.

A clap of thunder, of fire being unleashed from an ancient prison, a tight cell, a bullet round that shattered the light that hung above her head and at the same instant that the sound shredded the silence, each muscle inside her stiffened and tensed as if she had been struck instead, a small scream rang from her lips and she shut her eyes tight against the scene about her. It left her in a curious position, on instinct her body had attempt to curl up, her shoulders were brought backwards, wrists restrained against the chair still; the skin underneath the plastic restraint turned white under pressure, beginning to tear the first layer of flesh from the fast and unanticipated action. As it is the restraints about her ankles rode up the chair's legs a small length, allowing the upper region of her legs to rise from the bottom of the chair; in essence, she had jerked backwards in a mixture of shock and fear alike. A shower of glass pieces, a broken image, now became a jigsaw puzzle that was littered in a threatening pool about her whilst smaller pieces frosted her hair and clothing. As the familiar threatening silence fill the air once more, an echo of the man's laughter rumbled; her ocean-cast regard presenting itself with caution, like a small animal being hunted, peering out from the bush that it hid in, to see if the hunter had left.

She was left in the full embrace of the shade, which leap with blissful and devious excitement about the area where the light was once presence. It was evident that she was helpless, caught in a snare, in the corner and could do naught about the matter; panic and the sense of helplessness began to infect her, grow and mutate. It was a challenge though she forced herself to a calmer state, her muscles easing and her breathing leveling once more, though still laced with fear as it pushed in and out of her lungs.

A scuffing sound behind her caught her attention, a rush of emotions becoming noted from outside of her own, an expression of remorse surfaced across her features for a moment as she realized once more that she was radiating her own emotions; she hated it, regretted her ability to do to, she fear and loathed it all in one instant. It was as unwilling on her behalf as those who received it on the other end. It was in her knowledge and realization that she could use her talents to her advantage, though she had long lost the control over that aspect of herself- she lived in constant denial of her 'true' self, and thus lost it in turn; it still was very much alive inside of her, though now possessing mind of it's own it seems, she could do little less then predict such, or take note of the face after it had transpired.

_"Whats the matter with you? Dont ya know Gothams dangerous?"_

"I do."

As she voiced the two syllable response, her voice was but a whisper, trails of her fear still present. It was a simple response, though she knew naught of another response; she thought that the less she spoke, the less chance she had of further endangering herself and it would up her chances to agree- even if that chance was upped a small one percent, it was better then none at all.

As his hand touched her neck, a small and pathetic tremble vibrated through her entire being; it subsided the following second after, she knew he was no threat then, he told her such without words, and against his consent as he touched her, making full contact- a connection made. It was to her surprise that his hand slipped to the gag and untied the device that rested about her neck as if a scarf, a garment that she often wore. A crisp note of music caressed the silence; a knife opened and cut the bounds that restrained her, one by one until she sat no longer bond to the chair. It was with the acknowledgment that she he meant no harm at this stage did she find the strength in herself to gathered to her feet, stand and walk a pace or two away from the chair as if it meant to re-capture her at the next given moment. In the unfamiliar room, she stumbled with her second step over her own messenger bag that had been careless dropped when she was brought here; with a graceful ease she caught her balance before tripping.

_"You got a place to go?"_

She nodded her head, despite the motion would not be seen; having felt a goodness in this man, she did not fear him as she had once, she felt calm though remained alert to the strange environment about her.

"An apartment in southern gotham."

* * *

He had expected her to have a place- She was to finely dressed to be homeless. Though it was an attempt in figuring out why she was out by herself. A smile flicked across his lips once again. Her actions did remind him of his own upon a time. Fearless.. he believed that he was untouchable. And in many senses he was. Its always the simplest of actions that took down a hero. It didnt take long for his own eyes to start adjusting, though he had an advantage on her having been in the dark. Faint outlines already began to grow into sharper focus. He nodded in turn not caring if he could be seen.

**"You think you can make it there without being mugged again?"**

A curious sort of annoyed concern stole over him for the second time in the past few moments. His body stiffening but unmoving to aid her as she stumbled over the bag. His voice had been hauled out in a deeper tone, a frail attempt at being casual- though the very nature of the damaged voice made any sort of softness an impossibility. He had to have known who he was at this point. A hand clenched around a coin in a concealed pocket in some perverse form of security.

His choice had been made, and he couldnt go back from his decision now. He had to get her out of here, and the less theyre seen the better. He moved once more to her side- keeping an arms distance from her to make sure not to startle her by suddenly drawing to close to her or making his intentions thought to be otherwise. His free hand went idly to his lapel brushing off the soft fabric in a simple action of casualty, though the action was lost in the darkness, the cascading rippling of fabric caused a gentle hiss of movement. The sound if anything else would cue her to his location.

His hand reached out to touch the upper of her arm, and tugged her lightly in the direction of his former entrance. A fire escape that snaked in behind the building and out back to an open alleyway. It should be pretty empty at this point.. and if it wasnt hed make sure they didnt remember much when they came to. He nudged his head in the general direction of his intention and offered his arm- not caring if it would be taken or not.. or even seen for that matter. Teeth parted in speech.. lips void of a gapping hole along the males one fine features. He spoke oddly through partially tightened lips.

**"Doors this way-"**

It would have been amusing if he had realized, or her for that matter, that he was doing the very same thing. Keeping his words to a minimum to make him harder to place... though he had already spotted who she was. He knew of every cop and reporter in the district. He made it his business.. alias or not. A thirst to know who the batman was, lead most villains to lead the past time of obsessively following and researching each and every other authority figure.. A game of darts in the dark in hopes of hitting the center target.

He had started walking towards the door, his facial expression darkening upon the blackness at the inevitable thoughts of The Batman.. in his presence he had made his life a living hell.. had been part of his slipper slope into chaos. He supposed Two-Face should be thankful that he was there to give him the final shove into existence.. but Harvey Dent resented the vigilante... and both sides were bitter. In death he still held resentment towards the Dark Knight. The town was chaos.. even for the villains. He was no longer a rival to The Bats, but was now just another criminal in a cesspool. There was no satisfaction.

He paused as he reached the door and pushed the heavy metal frame open. Turning back to face the girl once more, he added as a second thought, the statement somewhere casted between humor and sick sincerity.

**"Oh... and if any one asks- you were horribly brutalized."**

* * *

It took her longer then one would expect, perhaps she had forgetting her grounds and knowledge that came with her profession- consumed with the once fear that she dripped of, once calm and able to think outside of her own well being- she knew then who stood in the shadows with her. It was in that instant that small things began to piece together in her mind, the coin, the rivaled emotions, the constant shadow that he stood in the protection of; protecting himself and the world there about him of his own existence, she thought for a lingering moment as she passed across such thoughts for a idle moment once she had regained balance. She then knelt for a moment, hand reaching in the dark for the bag that rested along her ankle; as she bent a few loose tresses of moonlight-blonde dangled free. Ava lifted the back of her hand to her cheek, wiping once on each side to brush away the damp tear trails, the strands of hair that had become dried against her skin and the free tresses tucked behind one ear. As she pulled the strap over her head to rest once more, then laid on her shoulder as she straighten her form upright once more. As she saw then, the faint outline of the man that stood a few paces from her.

_"You think you can make it there without being mugged again?"_

She watched him approach then, unconscious tendencies prevailing as she noted the folding sound of fabric near her as he stood to her side, a half pace behind her. A light touch against her upper arm, a touch texture with leather, she glanced down to his hand that rested there; she frowned on the thought of what the man had went though; she had heard the tale, who in gotham did not? As she returned her regard, to where his eyes should be within the darkness of the room, a small smile caressed across her lips as she saw the curve of his head move in one direction and then his arm offered to her. It was a curious, though appreciated, as she did not pull from his touch nor fear what she felt as he made contact once more. It was appreciated, she could have died, and although it was left to chance, she knew it was his nature nonetheless, it was a part of him and it is undeniable fact- all people have different faces of themselves, she as well knew such to be true. Ava placed her hand on his arm, accepting the gesture as he led her to the door and opened the large metal door to the alleyway which followed through it.

It was a relief to see the evening canvas stretching out overhead as she stepped out from the shade inside the room, through the exit, her hand slipping from his arm as she left through the door. She hesitated for a moment, of course, most would run then- as fast as one could travel in fact, away from the unknown building. She hesitated; one hand poking into the pocket of her pants as she then turned the door as it began to close, stepping forward to tug on the level to nudge it to remain open. A small tilt of her head as she look in against the shade where the crime lord stood; it was foolish to remain here, considering she knew who he was and what he was capable of. She offered a small smile,

_""Oh... and if any one asks- you were horribly brutalized."_

"Thank you- Harvey."

She then tossed a small coin with her thumb, a clean and unmarred coin through the opening of the door; she thought that he would understand the gist. It was the man, Harvey Dent, that she met this evening and not the other side, the shadow that followed in his footsteps, sharing the position of one. In light of knowing she was perhaps pushing her 'luck' she turned and began on a quickened walk home; anticipating the sight of home once more, the thought of a new article about a particular crime lord brought a small smile to her face. It was not the monster that people told her of, which she met today, a man of two polar opposites that answered to the call of chance and naught else. It was a wonder, that one side had not snuffed the other out- indeed two personalities can only occupy the same body for an extent of time before one loses the battle. It was tragic what befell most of those in gotham, it felt as if there were none left unmarred, untouched with the taint to which the city played the role of host for.

It was simply, just another day in gotham.

* * *

The nights air had grown more chill even from his brief stint indoors- and already the street lights had flickered into life, as all form of daylight had fully died, being replaced by the thick veil of royal velvet. Gothams nights were both as beautiful as they were deadly. It was a shame more people couldnt enjoy its welcome as fearlessly as the criminals did. The city in its Gothic architecture came to life if shadows and softly illuminating moonlight. It added a degree of appreciation to the sharp angles and casting of shadows. Not that many people appreciated architecture.

A set of eyes caught the stars illumination within their crystal depths and reflected back at him with such amused warmth that it quite literally caught him off guard. The sight of such beauty causing him to haul back further into the shadows. He stood giving her a dubious look of question. He hadnt expected her to wait- nor turn to approach him. He had set her free.. she had been imprisoned. The logical reaction would have been to run, as far and as fast as humanly possible.

Soft angles tilted upwards, her statue a good hand span beneath his own. Instinctively his head tilted backwards glancing down at her over his own features, his lips twisting into a disdainful snarl, as if she were about to throw a venomous insult at him instead of casual words. The moonlight caught the softs of her cheek bones illuminating her in an eerie blue light, the golden hair holding a silver hue in the mysterious time of day.. Soft ruby lips pulled into a sincere smile.

_"Thank you- Harvey."_

**'The name-s...'**

The sentence sparked upon his mind with a degree of bitter earnest- but slowed upon itself, cutting off and stopping as suddenly as it had started mid-word... the usual instinctive response yo being called by his old identity dieing upon his voice. Lost, and unheard upon the nights refreshing breath. He wasnt even sure if his words had been spoken aloud or remained sharp within his mind.. he doubted he could find his own voice if he wanted to.

The coin left her fingers and invading his cocoon of shadow, hit the center of his blazer, bounding off the fabric it plummeted once more into the shadow falling along his form. His hand- the one he usually used to catch his own coins, had sharply rose as if to instinctively catch the melded piece of metal- but had halted, frozen in mid catch. His being refusing to catch the thing. The actions- the very coin, even if it was not his own, was tied to a forceful self created inability to accept such symbolism without first leaving his choices to a game. To accept the coin freely would have shown a side- a true side.. it would have lied to his own character. It would have betrayed both. Even as the thing plummeted, he found himself glad that the thing gave off no sound of contact with the cement beneath his feet. Somehow not wanting the sound to catch and be heard, to betray his half performed actions. The soft 'thunk' of the object hit the top of a dress shoe.

After a beat of awkwardly holding his position, still in an illusive state of disbelief of this females unusual actions, it slowly dawned on him that his hand was half extended by his side.. like a child waving awkwardly in farewell. Eyes fell and focused through the darkness, the foot raised with a degree of balance, and the coin was gathered. Turning it over, looking at both sides unmarred, it was strange to see the object untainted. He had so long ago destroyed his keepsake, and hadnt bothered looking at others since.

He looked at the simple object with mixed emotions (obviously). He was unsure of how to take the gesture. Logic told him he should be enraged.. should correct the situation that had long ago gotten out of his normal boundaries. He fingered the coin through the protection of leather, the game of chance melding over his mind at his two choices with the female.. he could let her walk away, or he could silence her before she had fully slipped from his sight. His eyes rose to catch the tail glimpse of silken hair dancing in the lines of moon chilled ice. Without turning his gaze, he rolled his shoulders. A flick of the thumb and the coin danced in front of him, a predictable dance. He watched her retreat the decision upon his mind before her coin was even flipped...

and before his black clad hand had snapped the coin violently from the air in a broad swing he knew which side would be shown.. Her coin was nothing but luck.

Pulling air through his front teeth in a curious action of decided indifference, he turned into the building once more to let her leave into the night, from his prison, from the filth of Gotham. His mind twisting over the nights events even before they had come to a conclusion.. both sides dwelling on different aspects, but each held with just as much worth as the other.

A sharp grin, and violent eyes drew over the mental image of finely curved swing of youthful hips. She was young- by a number of years, and it showed in all the best fashions upon her all to feminine curves. Soft unmarred gently colored flesh, covered every inch of her frame, begging to be touched. A gloved hand clenched at his side- the dull burning along his arm in memory of her soft touch. She had not denied him.. but had smiled upon his gesture. The innocent gesture as cruel as putting meat in front of a starved beast.

But there had been something else.. a whisper of pity had placed itself upon his mind.. a subconscious will that he knew wasnt his own.. no- no, not pity.. sympathy. Understanding. It turned his stomach in a sickening sense. Not of disgust, but of incomprehension, and the pure twisted kindness that was just as appreciated as it was cruel.. like telling a terminally ill patient coming to terms and realizing they had lead a good life.

The coin twisted over his knuckles in the recesses of the building- the thugs eying him ruefully as he passed which he promptly ignored. His exterior demeanor once more as it had been. But he allowed himself the pleasantry to dwell on brief moments of light within Gotham. She had not pulled away from him. He was delusional, a man, a fool. A tale of beauty and the-...

It was anything but just another day in Gotham.


	2. 1 Fish, TwoFish

He supposed it would have looked odd- If anyone had decided to at the dead of night- during teh hours of twilight to take an evening stroll.. or an early morning walk... the intent of the peaceful and terrifying effect of the Aquarim keen upon their mind- to travel in the undergoudn tubes, with a note of confidence at finding the place in abandonment. The knowledge that a place normally bustling with locals and tourists alike could be all your own. But not this night, this night if one so decided to take a walk upon the still early hours of the day into the twisting opening of the dome.. they would have found quite the opposite. Not only a man sitting down in the middle of the room, the benches and comfortable chairs purposely ignored, but the mere fact that the man who took the silence as his own, and claimed the location was the Damned Duo, the double crime lord -face.

A cigarette clenched between slightly off hued teeth, the red cherry the only source of light within the flickering glass walls of the room. The hanging lights that lined the ceiling as an offering of convenience were dead- or at least had been left sleeping in the early morning. The first rays of the sun had begin to creep across the Gothic mimicked city, drawing in a sort of implaceable source of light to the room. Wavering as the waves did in twisting veins brought to dancing life by an unstoppable flow. Rhythmic wavers of marble veins.. hypnotic.. relaxing.

The male drew in another breath of the cigarette, grinding his jaw slightly as if to provoke the cigarette to provide a better flavor.

His square shoulders rolled. an ache had started into his frame. It had been a long night- and he had been sitting there with his arms pressed into the dirt behind him, propping him up.. for.. what.. minutes, hours? He supposed it had been a while.. He knew he was purely there for his own keen enjoyment. His job had been finished a long time ago- a sick grin slipped across marred lips- he`d be in trouble if someone had slipped into the dome after him. He suspected the glass around them would be thick enough to withstand a single gunshot- From a regular handgun- but the ricochet could prove a serious problem, and any heat he was packing was going to be fired more then once. But it seemed irrelevant with Batman long gone now..

Other 'heros' that have stepped up were... pathetic.. laughable.

He guessed for him and his kind.. the _truly_ feared were.. well.. retired.. forcefully. They were unstoppable now with the Bats gone, and you`d think they`d take advantage of the situation. But in a sense Batman had won. Not by taking them down, or reforming them, but by wearing them down. Good ol` fashion age.

Dent wasn`t as young as he used to be.

His own brow furrowed with a sudden ferocity at having mistakenly referred to himself as.. as..

He literally gagged as if the man made him sick, and clenched his teeth with a new found earnest. If the cigarette could scream from abuse.. well.. Two-Face would have abused them more.

He stood brushing off his dress pants, flicking random pebbles and bits of dust from him. The forming concept of why he had been remaining in the aquarium- the simple _like_ of marine life seeming just as nauseating to the male now. The only relief he took from this sudden realization at his laps into sickly sentimental 'Harvey-ville' was the knowledge of why he had come to the aquarium to begin with... the reason needed a reconfirmation. Like reading the ending of a very good book a second time to savor that sweet sense of satisfaction.

He moved as oiled as the marine life that flickered oblivious to the sheet of glass, towards the transparent wall. The wooden wall that marked the lower reaches of the boardwalk, weaved through seaweed, and faded out of sight into the murky milk white hue of distance underwater. The water was relatively tropic- or at least appeared that way.. he was sure that Gotham was far to cold in its waters and soiled to actually hold tropical fish, not that he was good with that sort of thing, but the multiple chemicals.. of exotic types- Poison Ivys organic toxins, Scarecrows neural toxins, The Jokers.. what ever the hell he used.. it all was washed into the bay with Gotham heavy showers.. leading to a very interesting and exotic array of.. well.. unnatural fish he supposed.. specific to the location.

But the green wavering seabed hid more then freak of nature fish- it concealed other truths. Wavering along with the slow lazy tide that touched all underwater life were strands of loose brown hair-.. a grim face attached to it, still partially alert in shock and horror. A death marked with panic. Already the flesh took on a gray deathly hue, as it`s free form wavered in a sick dance, is if even in death the body was trying to dodge the Grim Reaper.

A wild smile touched Two-Face unchecked. The sought after sense of satisfaction stealing over his body providing a comforting warmth at the sight of the dead man. The amused scenario of who ever would find the body first- a casual walk with a lover... a weekend trip with children.. cops on the hunt. The look of horror and the paling of live flesh as they realizes through the green veil what the object was. Then the hunt of who had committed the crime. Not that it mattered... the cops were more of a joke now a days, drunk more often then sober, or cowering as petrified as the citizens.

They`d know though- oh once they hauled the body out of the depths of Gotham Bay. It wouldn`t take much to spot his.. mark. A cement block was fastened securely around the victims ankles. Classic.. classic and effective. Provided the victim time to see what was coming.. to know the inevitable, to plead and beg for their life. And he gave him a chance- he gave him a good deal.. 50/50... Between the ankles of the man- pressed into the cement remained a single coin. One side concealed in cement, the side remaining- scratched and marred. Two-Face had given him a chance.. his luck had run out... The man captive by the over done method- but not quite appreciated... as then he would be fully awake to watch through the protection of glass.. on the same level, the very same level, hauling in breaths- eye to eye, as you struggled in the depths, drowning slowly, to look into the eyes of your undoer.. as everything went black- as slowly your lungs ached for breath and burned with water, as slowly you felt yourself slipping, you see, while they breathed, laughter- lost upon the thick cotton like effect of the water. They were laughing,m you were drowning, they were on your level watching, and they could breathe.

Two-Face drew in a sigh, almost matched by that of a dreamy lover in recollection.

Blue and red hues were drawn forcefully from the body as a fish- a single fish swam brazenly from its hidden depths to greet the male. In curiosity.. or perhaps in search of food. Part of him was enraged by the small floating object, that just widened and thinned in rhythm, wiggling lips at him. The other half was keenly amused.

How appropriate.

It was a mixed breed of fish, one native to Gotham, and therefore named by local scientists... A Clown fish- black and a hue not quite white, and not quite yellow. It was a clown fish- the strips along his tail racing up its body in bans, told of this. But its face. Its inquisitive puckered face- the pattered differed. The black and gold split it down the middle- so one half was one, contrasted against the other. It was keenly named The Double Faced Clown Fish...

He supposed he should be flattered.

* * *

A limited source of blue-white light shone against the thick glass wall that framed the entire network of walking trails that were found, interweaved as if a maze, through the underground aquaria. As the dull light sought to peer through the glass, the polished surface glared, as if stirred from a slumber- reflecting the light back against itself, small illuminations stealing through to lighten the water that rested within an arm's length. A second to follow and the source of light changed, staring back along the length of the walking passage of glass, stone and dirt.

It was a wondrous sight to behold; the water that stretched from the glass wall's confinements was illuminated with the faint kiss of moonlight from the full of the moon that hung in the clear midnight canvas that loomed above the water mass. It extended a surreal atmosphere to the about surroundings of the aquaria, the water gushing in it's constant strong flow that within it's strength danced the fish species known to these waters that were presented in a wide range of sizes and shapes. It was known that a notable number died through the years of pollution, though as evolution is known for it's abilities to persevere through thick and thin, some species grew a resistance while others mutated to the toxins that added an acquired taste to these waters. It became a whole new breed on its own; it changed as gotham did- for the better or worst it remained constant, like an old and loyal dog.

Pair of simplistic worn-in black flats was worn on petite feet, which threaded through the path at a casual slow pace, steps that echoed precaution and hesitance as if a child doing that which it knew it should not. It was foolish and disregarding to choose a late evening stroll through the aquaria that was located in southern reaches of gotham- fool enough, to walk the streets that were at least patrolled through the midnight watch of policemen, but to walk were there was no chance of assistance if the need arose, that was another matter upon its own. It was made worst, it that were possible, that she did this and knew the differ; she thought though as she was debating on her visit this evening, that to acknowledge the dominating presence of crime and through action to remain inside and 'safe', would further suggest that crime did rule the streets. A compliment of her youth, which was summed up as uneven collections of intelligence, courage, curiousness and foolishness; at her age, she could still act outside the box.

A small vibrated ran through her arm, the white-blue light that was held in her hand, extended in front of her, pulsed; on the screen of the cell phone was the small animated image of an envelope circling around the earth, pausing as it reached the front and the flat opening, it repeated until she turned the cell phone to face her, and viewed the message that was ignored for the moment as she switched her phone to silent. It was through curiousness and a hint of boredom that she found herself outside at such an hour, armed with but a camera that hung from her neck. A pair of light-washed form fitting jeans with worn and tattered sections at the knees and upper leg areas, an ivory sweater that was left unzipped to show glimpses of a dark turquoise shit underneath and about her neck was a loosely wrapped light gray/ivory scarf decorated with a sparse dotted-line the stitch color matching her shirt. A pair of sunglasses made roost at the top of her head, useless at this hour. A thumb slipped off the lens cap of her camera, the expensive device longing to capture the world about it.

In the depths of the water about her, she saw shaded images, underwater reflections, ghosts of the deep; it was as if she had been thrown into a scene of a horror scene of a motion capture film, it was unfortunate at that moment that she was blonde. A forced silent breath escaped her lungs as she turned the power button, the camera buzzing into life; a pause in her movement as she captured the first image of this evening, a long-view down of the path in front of her, the sole source of light being filtered through the glass about her, giving the image a horrific but splendid effect. It was well worth it, she though, as shadowed cerulean pools peered at the lcd screen of the camera. It was the renounced dome room that she sought, she was told by a professional photographer she had met at a quaint coffee shop, that he got some of the most astonishing photographs there at night; he had continued on then to tease her because to get those shots now was deemed impossible, because there was few who did not fear the shadow in these times.

In the corner of her eye she spotted a reflection, though not the sort that shone sharp against the scale of a fish, it was a duller reflection of a death-white; she had thought as her head turned to catch a glimpse of the source, she had thought she saw a face. A small upbeat in her pulse began at this fright as she took a small step towards the glass, and then back again; it was too far in the distance, it flowed back and forth against the current, and thus wavered in and out of sight. As she continued on, the lone sound of her steps becoming all the more pronounced, a small echo running back to greet her announced to her that the dome room was just ahead. As she walked through the last arc and into the room, she closed her phone that she still held and slipped it into a pocket and then allowed the camera to hang once more from its lanyard that circled her inviting neck.

A small part of her lips as she came to the middle of the room and paused, looking about in front of her, faint moonlight shone down through the surface of the water sever feet above the dome. A movement, a fish, she found the camera once more, snapping the shutter button to capture whatever creature swam outside. Another- she turned a slight step to the left. It was with newfound anticipation she turned once more, no longer looking to the screen afterward, each would remain a surprise for when she uploaded the images to her computer. A shimmer of light, that same dulled reflection once more, the shutter snapped twice. In a dance of an unheard tune she turned once more, the lens focusing on a small light of orange and red hues. A small hesitation as her finger did not press the shutter; instead she lifted her head from the camera's window. As she stared against the surrounding darkness, her stare adjusted to the shade to a certain degree- she saw the faint and almost indistinguishable shape of a man- identified through the figure's lack of feminine curves. A smell of smoke invaded her lungs, the butt of the cigarette having come to its end as the user tapped it once more, drew the final essence and then threw the still alit butt to the floor.

It was known now, if it was not evident before, that luck was not on her side when she dared against the norm and bended rules. In suspension between two choices, she knew not what to do, had he seen her; of course, with her loud movements and enthusiastic 'photoing'- who could not? It was a chance she took, she rolled the dice and decided to come against the odds, odds which now stood across from her- she could have been more careful. It was far too late now for, could of's; she stood like a statue, a rabbit frozen in fear of the chase, as she dallied on her own thoughts.

* * *

Someone was tough out of luck- he found it surprising that someone would be out and wandering Gotham at these hours. But the sound of footfalls were distinct. The chance they were taking was about to be meet with a worse case scenario. He hauled in another long satisfying breath as he pulled himself closer into the corner of the dome, purposely trying to keep himself mostly out of view. A tiny floating minion on the opposite side of the mirror followed obediently.. the humor was not lost on him, but it was none-the-less under appreciated. Arms folded across his chest, fingers purposely denied of their already forming ache to reach for his coin. The denile making the action in time, all the more sweet.

She turned the corner- he lost his collected nature and hauled in a startled breath- a half laugh. He bit his jaw closed. The sudden sharp intake of smoke.. burning with the nearing arrival of the bite, made his throat all the more keen to cough. It seemed.. .. ridiculous. Fond amusement caught his attention, as he breathed carefully to soothe abused lungs. His eyes danced across her facial features, taking in her every look- he noticed her terror, and he wondered for a moment if his guest was discovered.. but she eased under the beauty of the sea floor once more, and he too, appreciated the look or marvel. The hungry passion engulfed her features- he knew the look well.. though his often game from less wholesome sources, it was a blissful state, and he mused as he saw it upon another. It was usually something lost as soon as he was spotted.. the former look was the one he usually received. She worked herself into a blissful dance of photography- and he took a blind gamble himself, risking a shot (wouldn`t be the first time) he took a long stride towards her.

She faltered. His amusement twisted- in a deliberately slow.. slow, and cocky motion he finished his cigarette, the toxin hanging thinly upon the enclosed air, tainting the sweet sea breeze that normally invaded the location. With a flick, he took another long stride towards her- and then another. Obediently, instinctively she took a stride back, until unwittingly her back was pressed against the glass wall. He leaned in close to her- his hesitation about his appearance lost upon the moment of their seclusion. Their situation this time was different- he was not Harvey Dent ashamed of his internal sin.. no.. no, she had stumbled across someone else this evening. And she was not to be rescued, but kidnapped once again.

And arm- a black clad arm snaked out and pressed upon the glass behind her. A white clad hand resting just to the left of her head. He looked- a foot in front of her, a great beast, his very form, amplified by his over sized blazer seeming to engulf her meek silhouette. The lighting was soft, luminescent, but caught the terrors of what was left of the mans face- illuminating every fault, and amplifying it with grave shadows. His head tilted slightly- his expression carefully held to one of calm amusement, though his lies told of something more, something one would be better off leaving undeciphered. A deep lolling growl broke the silence of the dome.

**"Gave a Double Take? Ava?"**

The rustle of clothing- and a hand rose. Perched between thumb and forefinger rested a coin- even in the dim light it was distinguishably his own. Before the hollow echo of his greeting could die upon the closure, his voice sounded a grin.. an indistinguishable note riddling throughout the forceful sound.. but the words themselves... preluded to something more.. :

**"You seem to be a girl of taking chances-..."**

**

* * *

  
**

A step forward, a step back, an ancient and all too well known dance between the hunted and the hunter; she attempted for the time to maintain the distance between the two, as still his features were unaccounted to her. It was made evident that he was of ill-will as another would have paused once she had retreated back a step from them, though with a threatening confidence the man continued to come closer; slow and deliberate in nature, to cause further tension between the air that was pulled taunt between them. It was as if the air was dense and weighed down, like all that was good had left with no intentions of returning to this underwater home; a home that could too soon become a tomb if found in the company of sharks, that circled outside and inside the dome.

As the tension transferred from the air about her, to herself, the muscles along her tightened and became evident against her tender and inviting flesh; the muscles along her neck tensing, her stomach and along the length of her back. It an act of submission she continued to step from his approach, until she was met with the solid resistance of the glass dome that had come upon her unmarked; as the glass pressed against her a small whince escaped her rose-painted lips, startled at its presence. It was then that the source of light began to shift, as her regard was glued to the approaching man, she began to catch small details of his persona; a dress suit, a polished boot, and something else, something was not right- his facial features for a moment appeared marred. As her hands, which were once rested without care to both sides, stretched against the chilled glass behind her; she felt the thudding strength of the sea current, its frightening capabilities. An arm extended toward her, his hand slammed against the glass alongside her head, a hand clad in a white glove.

As she watched, a small tilt in her head as she looked from the glove, running her intense and penetrating pools up the length of his arm and then to his face; the portrait of their white knight, their poor, disfigured and fallen white savior. It was a nightmarish sight, which was exaggerated to new and frightening heights because of the contrast of moonlight and shade that filled the crevasses of one half of his face, like a shallow pool of rain water. It was curious that the other side of his face, was on this occasion, in concealment; a maddening disease accented his words, an undefined and unbounded facet was staring back at her. In his other hand he toyed with his coin, the clean and then marred side flipping back across his knuckles; a child like attachment to the coin.

"All life is a chance..."

A stained though still calmness remained in her melodic words, a songbird that sung without the presence of a tune. As she was pinned against the glass wall, with the white knight to her front, she was stronger then she knew. It was made clear to her, as he stood within a hand span from her, that he was not himself this evening, not the man she had met previous nights long past- no he was still that man, but in the company of another, she believed. It was against her will, though she feared him, she could not lie to herself and make believe that this situation was safe- it was just the opposite, like black and white, ice and fire, cool and hot.

If need be she could spring to the side, that remained opened to her; she pressed her own regard back against him, not looking from his face; a mixture of fear and calm familiarity, of newness and…- her soft and soothing voice interrupted the air between them, her breath chilled on the air as she spoke, a greeting kiss of frost intruding against the words that were spoken an ounce above a whisper.

"He who goes farthest in life is generally the one who is willing to do and dare."

* * *

He admired her- as much as he loathed her reaction to him. He would have been used to fear, terror, to a gasp of shocking desperation. It was what he had grown to expect.. it what what he had grown to _thirst_ for. No, no she stole that from him. She dare stare at him with every confidence and indifference. He was damned- no longer th e towns idol, but unmentioned shame... fear was all he had left, fear was all he was granted. How dare she take that away from him. Muscles tightened in a ripple up along his arm- as if thirsting to be used, to cause some sort of harm- retribution, to drive fear into her eyes...

He restrained, his game was not finished- and violence would end it abruptly.

She spoke- as strong and unwavering as he had. He stared at her, the mixture of emotions strengthening with each pleasing word. Her voice.. a perfection in a way, a suiting charm that mimicked her features was like a cold slap to the face- and a harsh slash to the other. But through a haze of venom, her words were not lost upon him. And she spoke a sick sort of truth that he lived by- a code. It put him in a curious position- instinctively drawn to think over her sentence and provide the reasonable rebuttal.. she was wrong, and in a sense, so was he in every action he had ever taken.. but that was part of his glory- he knew he was unjust in his manner of choice. Luck, luck was dumb, and just as unfair as it was justice.

He was luck.

**"and those who leave their lives to chance fall quickest."**

A bitter wisdom stole the ungodly evil from his features. The words were bitter- and hypocritical to everything he was.. at least to half of who he chose to be. And for a fleeting moment in the filtered life of the moon, cast in shadow of ripple and various wavering life, he looked no more a monster then a defeated and broken man. The moment of weakness was fleeting- as shifting as he was, and just as quickly his features returned to a wild hunger, with all the more earnest for being temporarily stolen from him. Fingers stilled and a coin was presented before her- the thing held mere inches from her nose.

**"Let`s embrace your new found philosophy then." **

A wickedness sheered across his face through flesh and loss muscle. A snap of metal against leather and flesh, a glint of chance and an abrupt violent, forceful, snapping claiming from mid-air. He held a closed hand before her, his prize claimed, and now it was just a matter of revealing the victor. His own eyes, which had just as persistently never left her own, held her gaze for a moment longer, drinking in the sweet moment of heaving uncertainty. The entire evening could drastically change in a simple statistic- his eyes lowered.

**"Heads-"**

He started, his voice somehow seeming smoother in familiarity, his eyes rose once more- to catch that thin breath of panic often shown.

**"An`**_**Harvey**_**"** he drew out the name, as if it were disdainfully an arch nemesis. **"will come to your rescue the second time in a week...**

**Tails-"**

His eyes dropped once more- passing his hand leaps and bounds to catch the base of the female and to draw shamelessly over every last inch her body provided oh so close to his own. Only when he reached her eyes again had his expression changed to an expectant thrill, did he continue.

**"- And this time you`re mine."**

**

* * *

  
**

His words fell sharp against her ears; she did not comprehend the change of the two personalities; she had been told, she read and overheard, but to in essence, face it, was not done proper justice. It was a nightmarish contrast and she thus began to feel the difficulties of maintaining her own mask; if she were to acknowledge her own fear, she would not be able to hence control it, contain it under an already weakening grasp. It was far from that point, though there risk was there, alive and glintening in his shameless eye, which looked her up and down as he continued his speech. A smallest sign of surfacing nerves, she inclined her head back against the wall behind her, pulled from the coin held so close as if it meant to harm her.

It astonished her how consumed he was with his obsession, entering his mind set and view; she was lead to believe that a person makes one's own luck with what he or she does and is certainly not determined or should be subjected under the rule of one man, under the flip of a coin. It is his luck alone, because he acknowledges it as such; not hers, not others. It would have been an amusement to speak against his own rules, his thoughts, his obsession, but she dared not further lure the beast from him; a dangerous enough game was afoot as it was.

A second sign; a small step to the side, quick, aided through the slender fit of her figure that allowed her to slip and squirm. It began and she could feel it, she felt her will fading and the all too familiar feeling of her demons creeping upon her; as if she contained fear itself, held like a reservoir, from which that fear, oozing liquid, began to pool out from her in search for more, more to grasp onto. It was then she felt the need to see the coin flipping in mid-air, shimmering with that same exuberant thrill, life on the line; his emotions being tossed in with her own, she felt it inside her, and loathed it and her own disabilities of controlling the connection. It was a curse and blessing, though once made, she knew naught how it could be undone.

A small shake of her head, she felt sympathy for him, so wound around his coin, a slave to it, and the unluckiest of all; she knew not if she should say anything else, her mind denying and her heart permitting her to.

"…It is not a flip of a coin that determines who you are, you submit to that coin and with that forsake yourself, your own choice and chances- people make their own luck, Harvey."

And cracks do appear, it began, like the brittle desert floor thirsting for a drop of water; if the right pressure point was found, who knew what could happen to her and the secrets that she concealed from all.

* * *

A stiffening ran through his entire body as she shifted lightly- a predator watching a flitting mouse in the field. Ready, prepared to cut it off from its save haven. She stopped, but his muscles remained tense- her mindset revealed to him- fear was beginning to show across her very nature- he could almost taste it upon the air. Ignorant to her talents, her melding of emotions across his own, did not panic him as it once did. No, not this time. As this time it wasn`t mistaken as his own, this time it was something he had been waiting for, baiting her to provide him, and its slow trickle through the gaps in a great damn, was drunken thirstily by the man.

It made him all the more startled to hear her voice- unmarred just as strong break the silence once more.

A hand that had begun to loosen upon its prize, tightened- its only betrayal of a blind burning rage that terrified his other have so thoroughly that even he, indeed, used to his ability to do evil, took refuge within the inner recesses of his mind. For sharp moments, he thought to take her words to heart, in rage and sweet irony and turn his gun on her- a sharp jerk and her body could join his former guests midnight swim. By some graze of god- perhaps a whisper of strength from a former Knight, or perhaps the very melding of emotions and strength of Ava herself, he managed to quail his rage enough to abide by his own rules.

**"The family thats home gets broken into from a street of hundreds- is that luck they`ve made by choosing that house? Did they choose their belongings to be stolen, or 'pressed their luck' by having something worth taking?**

**What about the criminal? When they family awoke and the father drew a gun on him. He shoots the criminal dead where he stood. Was that the criminals made luck? What if you find out that that criminal was born into a life of poverty, and needed the items from this richer family to help feed his children.. Was it his choice to leave them?**

**Would it be the childrens made luck that their father had picked the wrong house that night- and so by the chance of fate had died, meaning they were alone in the world, and would be separated from one another?**

**Luck isn`t created. Luck is given. You want to run from choices, then you`ll suffer just the same. If the criminal staid home he would have starved and his children with him. Fate is cruel- "**

Unexpectedly his hand rose- in a simple action of a flick, the coin danced to his fingers once more- the marred side shown towards her in the sharp bark that continued in an almost anguished rant.

**"This coin- this simple coin.. it doesn`t change my luck- it doesn`t change yours. This coin is the only saving grace, this city, me, and you have. This coin isn`t the instrument to decide your fate- it does not decide the balance within **_**Harvey "Two-Face" Dent**_** this coin is the last grace that allows the ability to keep a dieing light of good. Without this coin- without this chance, you`d already be dead. This city would have already been torn to the ground inch, by every disgusting inch. And Harvey Dent- **_**Harvey Dent**_** would have been just as extinct.**

**This coin is for Harvey`s benefit in an otherwise choice of evil. This coin is for his ability to survive himself." **

He heaved in a breath- not realizing how much he had allowed himself to tare into his own fury by words. An explanation he had never dared to even voice to himself. He felt violently sick once more. And a deep wave a self-loathing hit him as readily as her terror. A tremulous quiver ran through his body, and for a moment he resembled more a madman then a villain. She had been right- Two men could not survive in one body without destroying the other. His coin, dumb luck, The judgment out of his hands allowed them both to exist.

It wasn`t a sick dependence,

it was an extension of who he was.

Focus came across his eyes once more, and though his internal still conflicted violently with itself. A double headed snake, eating itself; he maintained a degree of control. And soon he eased with a consistent disassociation. His eyes turn to his coin held aloft- hauling in the winning side. A smart response clawed to pass his lips- but he stared.. in the very same silence she held at the object, a new found loathing flitting to the third party in his already crowded psyche.

For once, he said nothing. She had lost- and already a mysterious mirth was gnawing just below the surface of his rage, waiting to steal over Two-Face`s current mind set once more. To claim its prize, spoils of war.

* * *

"It's life- all of it, the house, the criminal, the father and children. Good and bad things will happen and chance has nothing to do with that, it happens to everyone no matter whom. If you sit there and do nothing with your life, what do you suspect your chances will be then, what use will you have; do you think luck will just shine on you like some god given miracle, life isn't like that. It isn't luck that saves or damns."

She shot back in haste as he twisted her words against her, a candle being lit, the flame burning against its wick.

"A view like that is how people began to become crippled, expecting handouts with the belief that each were just as deserving as the next. In creating your own luck- you begin to control your own life, make choices that you think is the best, in order for you to live a life that you wish- to reach happiness. Its when that person takes the first step to better their lives is their own luck created through their actions, it's inevitable that things will happen that are unfortunate but life isn't marked through how often you fall, but how often you raise after that fall- people must write their own stories else it will be written for them."

It was then that her fear was warped into a disgust and displeasure of her said words, of his constant third person referral of himself, it began to make her sick; she wished to shout it at him, who he was, but she held back. It frustrated her, forgetting she shot back against a known criminal and with no ground to do such; she wouldn't back down like a whipped animal however; where her physical strength lacked her spirit equaled the balance.

"Is it luck- because a boys parents were shot in front of him, and his encounter with an animal in the night and through the luck of chance that was **given** to him- be became what he did. He choose on his own accord though his want to do good, to attempt to right the wrongs in gotham. He choose to do that, he choose to raise arms, to defend, to shed that light in order to give hope to the hopeless."

She shook her head, tresses of moonlit-blonde appearing platinum white against the touch of the moon itself; she paused, brought to a silence as she caught his attention directed to the coin in his hand. A balance, she had regained herself and collected her emotions that had been thrown and spilled like a broken doll on the floor, each shard fitting with perfection in its puzzle to shape a whole once more. Another small step to the side, since the other was not met with resistance, she then allowed several others, created a new space between herself and two-face; for once acknowledging his crime name. She placed herself, a few steps away from the opening, standing to his far left, opposite of the exit; though she made no sudden move to run- she watched him still, her thoughts guarded, usual warm pools, chilled.

"I wish there was- somehow if I could help...-"

If she could pull the good that she knew was inside of him, to show him that- it was because he acknowledge the other side, had it come to be. It was impossible for two to live in the same vassal, and one day he would have to choose, one over the other- she wondered if it would be left to the flip of his damn coin. It was unknown to her, why she cared, why she would want to help- it might have been the good that she knew was inside him, deep down, under snow and hate, sorrow and anger.

* * *

**"Get out."**

There was no pause for consideration between her words, her actions and for him to take them in. There was just two words- sharp and all to sincere in their meaning. He hadn`t moved. He hadn`t followed her as she had left- her words fell numbly on his ears, and were all the lashings he recalled receiving so long ago while pleading his case, while trying to make someone understand through words.

It seemed as effective this time as it had been when he was nothing more then a child, broken, defenseless, and useless. Fingers clutched down on the object once more as if it was the last hand hold for a man about to slip off a cliff.

**"Get.. out..."**

He repeated again his voice lowering with a note that only softened with rage- a surpassing of yelling and shouting. A fury that passed such wild emotions and just hit a rooted sense of singularity. For once.. for once in his life for as long as he could recall, both sides had met in the middle in the man, and shared the very same emotion.

She had mentioned the folly to his entire being with admiration and blatant regard. The game was finished- his initial playful end result lost upon a mask of sheer outrage. Hurt fueling his rage, and disappointment binding it all. A heaving breath took his lungs and he found himself leaning his entire weight upon the arm upon the glass. Feebly the only simple thought raising to his mind was the want for another cigarette.

He held the position for a moment, before steading himself- a dizzy wave had hit him from the sheer idiocy of the moment. He held no intentions of a discussion. He had had enough of this un understanding psychological bullshit while confined in for long centuries in Arkham. Of trying to reason with him. make him 'understand'. He understood, he understood it perfectly well. They refused to hear him- he was a mad man after all. How could a coin- a coin.. be the only key factor to his self preserverence.

A new notion gnawed at his mind- a stave point in a sea of rage- perhaps ridden across the emotion strong enough to reach the females senses... like a single lantern on a sea. It was moment that Harvey showed- moments that gave Two-Face weaknesses. Fondness for a stranger, that hardened the criminal more. This clinging to morality that seemed to damage him further. The world was cruel, and kind people were those who received the cruelty.

He straightened out- catching his buckled over form as if the male was physically punched in the lungs. A second simple notion became abundantly clear, if by her emotion influence, or simply her words. She pitied him- wished him help. With a sick compassion- and that was the cruelest blow of all. She had- however.. won her game. He pocketed the coin- the game ignored, the prize seeming somehow...

....

lost.

* * *

It was an indecent feeling, she felt the change in him; a slow movement, a transition of one emotion to the next, a thought leading into another; his assumption that she pitied him, she felt sympathy and wished to help, it was different, thought she could not tell him that and gamble on his anger that for the time, seemed to have retreated. At the same time she was unsure of what she should do, to leave and erase this from her mind to head home to the comfort of her home and a warm soothing bath. At first she began to leave, walking to the exit she began to disappear through it, when she paused and pulled in a long breath and brought a hand to her face, finger tracing across her forehead in soothing rubbing motion; she could not bring herself to just leave; persistence for the better or worst.

It was then she turned back, the overcast illumination from the moon overhead was dimming, the current outside strengthening; she could guess without seeing the clouds were being tolled along with the wind and rain would soon join the fun happening at surface level. In the darkening dome she could still, just make out his figure, still standing to face the wall where she once stood. In several minds of how to approach the situation, a little lost on herself, she did not know which was correct, what would be best in this situation; the choice spun about like a roulette table in her mind until she found herself coming closer, approaching to his side. A small tilt of her form as she approached closer now, turning so that her back was once more pressed to the wall, creating a small, hand sized span between the two, shuffling two steps to the left until she stood in front of him, in the exact same place where she had been before.

As she did so, she could not explain the reason behind what she was about to do, she just did and did not question herself. As she stood there, she did not met his regard, unaware of his reaction thus far, her attention was else where, to his right arm that rested at his side, the hand which wore a white glove; she reached out, her own hand much smaller in size, reaching for his wrist to attempt to guide, tugging his arm up, to place it back against the glass wall to the side of her head where it had been before he pulled it back. Once she placed it, her hand lingered, no longer holding in a grasp, but resting against his wrist instead, she then tilted her head to the side, left to where both their arms were. It was then she dared, her own pools, soft and welcome as were their usual state, looked up against his own.

"Let me stay, please."

A liking for a criminal, a murder; she did not care for his past, she cared just for the present. It was the first attempt that she had made since childhood, she sought to grasp that which roamed wild inside of her for far too long; to command it, to wield it if just for this brief moment- to let him know, to feel her intention, her calmness, her thoughts and emotions and allow it onto him, not to impede as it did on impulse when uncontrolled, but, as if a stranger would knock on your door, seeking acceptance. It was in her 'power' to help him, if just by this small gesture, he just had to allow it, allow her.

* * *

He stood in the silence waiting- not for her.. he had long ago assumed that she had left. Perhaps a folly in his over confidence in his ability to intimidate.. perhaps a hidden thread of self conciousness that told him, even now, that logically any human being would put as much space between him and themselves.. he never really thought about it- as likely as someone else thinking it about him- but that the life of either great villainy and great righteousness was damned to a life of solitude... he was both. Somehow.. even he wasn`t sure how he had come upon the situation he was in. A sob story wrapped in tragic events. But this was all fleeting thoughts upon a incomprehensible jumble of a human mind. He waited in silence for it to sort itself out. For one side to quell the other, or meet on equal grounds and accept numb indifference.

Eyes focused on a single fish that watch his chaos with mocking reflecting-  
- the humor in this was entirely lost on him.

Even as he was about to turn- about to reach into his pocket and withdraw a cigarette and return into the streets of Gotham, a sound broke the silence. His pupils dilated at the broken noise- his form freezing never the wiser for having about moved. The instinctive reaction not peaked by any one thought in particular, or even the comprehension of who it could be- but just instinct. An act, a part of the process of holding indifference. If he had supposed upon rational thought, the hesitation would have been significant.

The air about him constricted. Not as it had in his blind rage, but as it does when you`re in pitch black and you know a hand- a face.. a person is right in front of you. The air grows thick and an odd sense takes over your body. Tingling in warning of someone standing near by- a double sense. His right side ran numb- and at this point he took it upon himself to turn his attention. His indifference not clouding the concept of someone getting in a cheap shot if the situation were as such.

He would have been surprised- if comprehension was penetrating numb indifference.

She slid before him, and an abandoned concept laughed upon his subconscious- toying with him once more. He watched her with the very same stern wonderment she had given him. A sort of.. surprised, anxious.. restlessness. A lack of associating reality with the here and now. It seemed almost as if he was reflecting back upon her being there, and indeed it wasn`t a reality.

And again she didn`t shy from his touch.

Brows furrowed for a moment as she so brazenly moved him- her eyes downcast so that a soft veil of gold cast shadows about her face. Concealing any sort of emotion, or thought. He was suspicious- though cautiously optimistic towards her actions. She could have left, and she did not. There was no need to press her luck. The same admiration towards this.. insane.. insane irrational female found its way to him once more. Her hand rested upon his own wrist purposefully, the slightest hint of finger tips touching beyond the gloves edge upon sincere flesh- and the moment about them froze as suddenly as his being.

Her eyes as icy flashed up towards his own- breaking his moment of paralysis with a sudden merciful pain. She spoke and he found himself more at a lost- and in ground not quite his own then he could have conceived himself in.

_"Let me stay, please."_

The splash of cold water that had taken him at her sudden inexplicable actions were met with a sudden warmness.. it was unnatural, and for the first moments of their encounters and many unexplained shared irrational emotions- he realized there was something in her very being that provided this connection of emotion. He would question this- with violent refusal and insistence on remaining his own. But to be frank he didn`t _want_ to shove her offering aside- to by the grace of anothers ease find his own. His shoulders relaxed suddenly, his muscles finally easing, and his weight once more shifting to the glass wall behind her.

His expression eased- mysteriously, and for the first time. It was almost.. comical.. And not at all flattering. Just as murmurers dancing in their mystery to be guessed. Crude, hideous, but their pure intention of good will, making them somehow.. charming. He shifted his weight slightly, a subtle action, but intentional, so that his unmarred side could be seen more dominately over his left.

A hint of a smile caught the corner of his unmarked lips- toying with the strong jawline in a fleeting glint, that was no less mischievous. He leaned in closer to the female- his voice lowered as if to keep others from hearing- His jacket falling off his body at a near 90 Degree angle, threatening to engulf her in its midsts. He shamelessly pulled back a dead topic.

**"I believe you lost the coin toss.."**

His initial intention returned, his free hand- an unmarked hand gloved in black leather rose from his side and caught the shallow beneath her chin to raise her face to his angle- supporting it there with looped fingers. He closed the gap between them, tilting his head with blatant disregard and the very same wreakless intention that riddled his being- though an unexpected hesitation stole over him mere centimeters from her own being. A moment of politeness. doubtful. A last nagging acknowledgment of his marred facade. His hesitation was as fleeting as a coin toss, before he stole her lips with his own.

* * *

It was a situation that even one's self would not attempt to answer, as are all actions that are guided through one's feelings instead of one's common sense; the heart is quite enigmatic, it's motives and intentions hidden, its wants branching out into emotions that are left to be either ignored or acknowledged in the host. It was felt though she could give no explanation, she allowed herself to be thus led through those feelings that propelled her to return to him. In a moment of utter suspense as her bright pools of blue looked up against his own that matched her in a solid regard, a regard that was laced with a lingering trace of a shock brought on through her words. A passing thought, a wonder, how long had it been since he was treated with kindness, treated for what he was; a human being with feelings and emotions. Ava knew that if one were to be treated as an animal, a monster, eventually that is what one might become.

A small change in her own regard marked her attention as she caught his physique changing, softening, easing, and shifting to one side so that the moonlight was caught against his unmarred side. It was the trace of a smile, a small tug at the corner of his lips that made her full lips that spoke of silent and unspoken temptation, curve into a small smile in return. As he leaned in towards her, his movements were marked with the soft sound of sliding fabric, mimicking the sound of rolling waves in a vast ocean. It fell like a curtain about him; both sides of the business-esque blazer pleading to move about her own form though were restrained through its own tailored length. In response a subtle upbeat in her pulse, her heart thumping in her ears; though not in fear.

_"I believe you lost the coin toss..."_

As fingers lifted up, pressing light against the shallow of her chin to raise her face up to him; a chill ran down the length of her at his touch, it was gentle and it was warm. As she was moved, a mere puppet against his will, her lips parted to capture a small breath of air, as if held in suspension without knowing whether she would be caught or allowed to fall from this height. A moment stilled between them, tresses of her light blonde hair fell to the sides of her façade, decorated with soft though fine features that were painted with a touch of pale peach that was soft and beckoning his touch. A constant raise and fall motion of her chest as she breathed with a sustained calmness and balance, though her pulse ran, no, it raced; she felt a caress of heat pressing, warming her cheeks as a rose hue surfaced.

A hand that rested quite content at her side, her free hand rose to greet him as he neared, the gap between them drawn to a close, her hand planted against his chest, in the middle, between both sides of the suit he wore; it was not a touch to hold him away from her, rather the opposite, as her fingers caught in its soft clasp, a small fold of the dress shirt he wore underneath the jacket. As she let down those barriers, as she let down the masquerade, the mask she held against her emotions, it felt a freedom that it had not in experienced before and with that it explored the newfound freedom, this happiness; it danced about the two, wrapping about them, encasing them as if to preserve the moment; a moment that was their own, caught underneath the waves that galloped above, witness by the sole watch of the ever constant night-watchman that peered down through the waves, illuminating the two in soft tones of white-blue.

As his head began to tilt down to compliment her lower height, eyelids fluttered close as she drew herself closer; her body leaning towards him and the small of her back arching in just the slightest against his own frame. In towards his warmth and towards his touch mere moments before his lips stealing claim of hers in a kiss; a claim to which she allowed, gave, with a willingness that none would dare to question the intention nor want of.


End file.
